Posts Tagged ‘Architecture’

Here and there

July 11, 2019
  • One doesn’t expect to find sound medieval metaphysics expounded in the poetry of Emily Dickinson, but the world is full of marvels.
  • We use a good deal of chalk at home, but our days of buying it at the Dollar Store are over. Hagoromo or bust!
  • Nearly a sesquicentury into construction, and La Sagrada Familia finally got a building permit.
  • My archbishop, Thomas Cardinal Collins, will be speaking this year at the annual Chesterton Conference in the US. The story of how it came about is quite amusing. As a bonus, Word on Fire has also published a good short interview in which the Cardinal explains just what he likes about GKC. (Incidentally, G.K. Weekly, our modest contribution to Chestertoniana, is running on fumes at present. We are seeking an archivist and typist to help generate a queue of scintillating or provocative excerpts from the great man’s oeuvre. Apply within. No pay or benefits.)
  • If you’ve ever had to cover your eyes to protect your soul from beholding an architectural monstrosity churned up by the modernist schools — and who among us has not? — James Stevens Curl’s Making Dystopia: The Strange Rise and Survival of Architectural Barbarism might be a heartening jeremiad. Theodore Dalrymple reviews.
  • Almost twenty year ago (!) I spent a week on retreat at the Benedictine Monastery of Christ in the Desert. It is in New Mexico, a bit north of Sante Fe, at the base of a splendid red-rock cliff, at the end of a long and sometimes-impassable sand road. At that time there were, I would estimate, twenty or thirty monks. I am delighted to learn this week that the community now has 60 monks, with an average age of just 34. A very healthy young monastery! How I would like to go back someday…

For an envoi, let’s watch an ad for Hagoromo chalk:

At San Clemente

August 28, 2013

san-clemente

My favourite church in Rome is the basilica of San Clemente, a building that is not only breathtakingly beautiful, but full of fascinating history as well. The middle section of this essay is a photographic tour of the church, and a pretty good one.

Building in the Middle Ages

March 2, 2011

Cathedrals and Castles
Building in the Middle Ages
Alain Erlande-Brandenburg
(Henry N. Abrams, 1995)
175 p.

I hope that I will never forget my first encounter with the great Gothic cathedrals of Europe. It was at Notre Dame de Paris, a church that in consequence has a special place in my heart. My first impressions, as with so many others before me, were simple awe, a quiet sense of prayerful repose, and gratitude that I had been granted such a beautiful sight. I stayed for hours, wandering slowly in and around her, gawking and gaping. Only later, on reflection, did the obvious question come crashing into my mind: “How on earth did they build it?!” It is a question that nagged me frequently over the years, and so when I saw this little book I jumped at it.

My main interest was in the practical business of constructing the building: transport of materials, laying of foundations, erection of walls and vaulting. This book addresses these questions, but has a wider scope, taking in also topics such as the relationships between patrons and architects, the organization of craftsmen’s guilds, the development of written contracts, the transition from wood to stone construction, the use of architectural drawings, and even includes a brief history of medieval architecture. It is not a large book, and each page is enlivened by pictures and diagrams, so there is comparatively little text, but what little there is is concise and informative.

The first stage in construction was the creation of an architectural plan. Sometimes this was a drawing, like a blueprint, but often it was a three-dimensional model of the proposed building. If building in stone (as was usually the case with castles and cathedrals in the Gothic period), a quarry would need to be found. Blocks of hewn stone were quarried and transported to the building site, by water if possible, and by oxen-cart if necessary. Stone-cutters, who constituted the most prestigious (and lucrative) of the guilds, shaped the stone into neat blocks that would be suitable for construction. (Erlande-Brandenburg does not explain how they did this, and I wish he had.) Cathedral construction usually began at the apse end, and proceeded upward and backward through the choir, nave, and facade. As the walls rose, scaffolding was erected. Metal was used judiciously to ensure structural integrity. (A fascinating diagram shows the metal skeleton of Paris’ Sainte-Chapelle, in which the walls are tied together through the ceiling with slender metal strands, the weight of each wall section serving as counterweight to its opposite.)

The principal practical difference between construction in the ancient and medieval eras was the use of machines. Without slaves, medieval builders needed to introduce machines into many stages of the work. They built cranes for loading and unloading stone from boats, pulley systems for raising stone, drills for wood-working, and other devices as well. Some of these machines were known from the Greeks and Romans, but medieval engineers made them more reliable and more efficient. One of the more interesting devices was the human treadwheel: several people would walk in the wheel in order to lift heavy weights. (Here is a photo of a surviving treadwheel at Salisbury Cathedral.) Such lifting machines allowed medieval scaffolding to be much lighter and more portable than in the past, which accelerated construction.

I was delighted to learn all of this, but slightly disappointed that not all of my questions were answered. Strangely, the book does not discuss the construction of the cathedral’s roof. That would seem to me to be the most difficult part of the whole enterprise. There is also no mention of the techniques used to make the beautiful medieval stained glass. (Perhaps because we no longer know how they did it.)

At the end of the book there are several excerpts from primary sources that touch on issues related to large-scale construction. There is an amusing account of how the architects of Milan’s enormous Duomo had to call in experts from France when they realized their ambition had outstripped their competence. Another tells of how William of Sens, a man of great energy and vision, rebuilt the choir of Canterbury Cathedral following a major fire in the twelfth century, and of how the beauty of his work astonished the monks. Others relate to the hunt for stone and wood to be used in construction, to the terms of medieval contracts, and other matters.

At the end of the book are listed 31 “great cathedrals”, where what is meant is “great medieval cathedrals”. Of these, I have seen just 9. It is clear that I need to take a good long trip to England, and then another to Germany.

I mentioned above that the book contains many photographs and illustrations. One of these, by an illustrator named Philippe Fix, portrays a medieval cathedral under construction. It is an amazing image which I spent a long time looking at, and since I cannot find it online I thought I would post it here. The illustration straddles the midline of the book, so I am not able to show the entire thing, but here are two details (click to enlarge).

cathedral-construction01

cathedral-construction02